Love Can't Compromise
by Jessica Wolf
Summary: Dr. Jones is going to have to make his final choice, and quickly. If he doesn't decide soon, he may end up hurting his son more than he ever meant to. There can only be one woman permanently in his life. The question is, who?
1. Over the Edge

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters in this story (well, I made up the bartender, and Adam. And no, you CAN'T use them.) But I do not own Indiana Jones as a character, or Shorty. These two characters belong to George Lucas. AND, I know George Lucas never really said what happened to Shorty, but I like to think Indy adopted him. 3 Deal with it.

Shorty sat quietly on the worn oak steps. He had been there for almost an hour, but he was still not calmed enough to go back inside. His face still stung and his heart was beating rapidly. Every time he stood and reached for the door's brass knob, he couldn't bring himself to enter.

From inside the large home, he could hear Indy making his way up the winding staircase. He was actually going to turn in for the night, without even saying _anything_ to Shorty?

The Chinese Teenager stood half-heartedly and tried the door. Sure enough, as he had suspected, Indy had locked it. He always locked up before going to bed, but he knew that his friend was outside...

Shorty descended the steps and walked quietly down the walk. He was still in his jeans and khaki collared-shirt from earlier that day, when he'd been studying at the library. Though the night air was somewhat chilly, he didn't roll down his sleeves.

The road in front of him was deserted, lighted only by the street lights and the barely-visible moon, which was hiding behind large grey clouds.

Shorty kicked at a pebble sullenly and watched as it shot across the street. Not bothering to look both ways, he crossed after it, but did not retrieve it. He continued along the sidewalk on the other side, heading towards town. He looked over his shoulder, just once, and saw that Indy's study room light was still on. If he went back and knocked, the archaeologist would probably let him in. But Shorty walked on, not wanting to destroy his pride further.

The night's blue-black darkness was cut suddenly by the headlights of an approaching automobile. Finally the black car came parallel with the boy and stopped. The driver's head poked out the window curiously. He was young, clean-shaven and looked tired.

"Where ya headed, kid?"

For a moment, Shorty didn't respond. He didn't know this man, and it was foolish to speak to strangers at such an hour, when he was alone. But a stab of rebellion urged him to toss aside common sense. "I dunno... the pub, I guess."

"Oh." The man paused a moment, contemplating. "Well, I just came from there, but I don't mind giving you a ride, if you like. It's not that far."

Shorty knew it was folly, but somehow he didn't care. He nodded and went around to the other side of the car, stepping inside cautiously.

"Isn't it kind of late for a kid your age to be out alone?" his driver asked. He was no doubt simply trying to make polite conversation, but Shorty didn't like being called a 'kid'. He was eighteen, and was at the moment going for twenty-one.

"Nah." He said, running his left hand through his ruffled black hair. "I've been going out this late every night, since I turned drinking-age." Lying was easy. He'd had plenty of practice, since he had started paying rent to Indy in return for staying in his house even after he had become of age. He had to lie every time he came home late or went out early.

Shorty's companion didn't reply, keeping his eyes carefully on the road.

"You say you just came from the pub?" Shorty ventured after a few moments silence.

"Yeah, that's right."

"You must not be drinking much, to be driving this soon after?" The teenager, whatever he didn't care about, did know he didn't want to be riding with a drunk driver.

"Ha, nope. I was just meeting a friend there." He winked then asked curiously, "So, what's your name? I'm Adam. Adam Birch."

"Sho-er, David Jones."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jones." Adam brought the car to a halt outside the pub's dimly lighted entrance.

"Thanks for the ride!" Shorty called before entering the building. As soon as he entered, he wished he'd chosen a different destination. It was loud, rowdy and rather intimidating. Everywhere he looked, there were girls sitting on the laps of laughing drunk men.

He wove his way through the crowded tables quickly and carefully, stepping up to the counter. He coughed awkwardly and the bartender turned around.

"What'll it be?"

"Um.." Shorty paused. He hadn't really thought about _what_ he wanted, just that he wanted it. "I.. I'll take whatever's cheapest."

The bartender let out a gruff laugh, winked and handed him a small bottle. "There ya're, one cheapo. That'll be one dollar and seventy-five cents."

Shorty handed him the money deftly, nodded and made his way back outside, the laughter and yelling still sounding loudly behind him.

He walked briskly across the street, causing a car to slow suddenly, almost running him over. Ignoring the driver's angry yell after him, he continued along the sidewalk. There was a bridge, about a mile from here, he supposed. He opened the bottle as he walked, a soft _pop_ exploding from it's opening. He took a swig. It smelled terrible and tasted sour, but somehow, he liked it.

By the time Shorty reached the bridge, he was no longer worried, or angry towards Indy. In fact, it seemed an awfully silly argument they'd had. It was only about Willie Scott, and she wasn't that important. Not at all, really. So Indy'd been interested in her again. So what? What did he care if Indy wanted to get married. A commitment, for once.

Shorty sat on the railing of the iron bridge, dangling his legs over it's edge. The water below him was black in the darkness, but it sparkled invitingly. He set the empty glass bottle on the ground beside him and stood up on the railing. If he was going to go for a swim, might as well have some fun first. He began making his way across the railing, balancing rather well for all the beer he'd drunk.

Shorty did not look up when he heard the sound of a motor approaching. What did he care? He'd be over the side long before they arrived. The noise stopped but Shorty didn't. He was almost to the end of the railing. Why not go the rest of the way before jumping?

But before he could he felt two strong arms grab him from behind and yank him roughly off of the cold iron railing. He whipped around but before he could hit his attacker, he felt something heavy and metal hit the crown of his head. He keeled over weakly as an ache crept along his skull.

"Oh, Shorty. You idiot." Indiana Jones swung his captive carefully over his shoulders, carrying him fire-man style back to his motorcycle. "You know I'm sorry, buddy." He muttered, settling his friend carefully on the seat in front of him. He reached around Shorty's limp form and seized the handlebars, driving carefully home.

EXTENSION of this story will be coming out soon. Gimme time! x)


	2. Why Willie?

"I wasn't really going to do anything!" Shorty glared sullenly at his foster father. Indy glared back.

"Not going to do anything!? You were about to jump in!" the older man was trying to stay calm. He really was. But his bad temper was getting worse as he aged.

For a moment, Shorty just sat eyeing his captor. Indy was sitting stiffly in his leather-backed wooden chair, obviously waiting for some sort of response.

"Well, I don't understand why the hell you wanna marry Willie anyway." The Chinese teen slouched in his own chair. "She only likes you for your looks."

Dr. Jones blinked, letting Shorty's declaration set in for a moment. "First off, you can use that tone with me as much as you want, but it won't make things any better. Second, it's time I stopped hitting on every girl I meet. I need to settle down and show some commitment."

"Absolutely!" Shorty sat up slightly. "I agree entirely. But why Willie!?"

"Why Willie!? Maybe because she's an amazing woman. Or maybe because she wouldn't have to adjust to _you_, she already knows you, or.."

"Hold on," The younger Jones leaned forward slightly, looking his father in the eye. "What's so amazing about her? That she's pretty?"

"You're walking on awfully thin ice here, kid. If you're not careful, you'll find yourself in that water after all."

Before Shorty could retort, the two men were interrupted by a knocking sound at the door. "Stay." Indy said, walking to answer the call. It was almost midnight, no one in their right mind would come at this hour. He peered carefully around the corner of the living room doorway. Indy was looking through the small glass window in the door. He grimaced, unlocked the door and opened it.

"Well, hi there, boys!" Willie strode gracefully into the entry hall, her evening skirt bouncing as she walked.

Shorty ducked back into the living room and made for the stairway on the far side. He'd just go to bed now. That way he'd get out of the argument _and_ talking to Willie.

"Evening, toots." Indy closed the door behind her and accompanied her into the living room. "Shorty was just off to bed."

Shorty grimaced from his position at the top of the stairway. He was trying to decide whether to stay and listen in, or go to bed and get some much needed rest.

"You're out awfully late." Dr. Jones' voice drifted up the stairs towards Shorty. He was definitely not comfortable with Willie coming this late.

"Oh, I know, Indy. But I just had to come."

"Well, what's up?" It was a somewhat unexpected question from Indy. He wasn't usually so curt with Willie.

"That's what I came over to see about. I saw you coming home from town tonight," the blond-haired woman's voice sounded artificially sweet. Shorty grimaced. If she'd seen Indy, she'd probably seen him too.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.. you know." Awkward silence followed this comment. At last, Indy replied, "Oh yeah, Shorty just... had one drink to many."

The teen couldn't _believe_ Indy'd tell Willie he'd been drinking. Frustration threatened to break through his carefully checked temper. _After all,_ he reasoned, _why _shouldn't_ he tell her? She's concerned, that's all._

Willie's silvery laugh was easy enough to hear, even from where Shorty crouched. "That doesn't surprise me, he's always getting into trouble."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm rather worn out," Indy was obviously insinuating he didn't want to talk anymore right now. "I think I'd better turn in."

"Oh, of course." The sound of a quick kiss. Shorty felt like he was going to throw up any second. "Good night, Tiger."

_Ewwwww.._ Shorty tried his hardest to understand, he really did. He knew what it was like to admire a girl, but how could _anyone_ do it in such a gross way?

The two voices moved away towards the door and Shorty could no longer understand them. He stood stiffly, all his joints aching. But especially his head. He turned, finally ready to go to bed. He heard the sound of the closing door and footsteps approaching. Shorty bounded quietly down the hallway and into his room, jumping quickly into bed and yanking off his sneakers.

A few moments later, Indy knocked on his door. Shorty allowed his eyes to close just before Indy opened the door a crack. He knew it was childish to feign sleeping, but he really didn't feel like talking anymore right now. His door closed and Shorty sat up. He was very tired, but he couldn't sleep. Somehow, he knew he had to apologize to Indy, without damaging his pride too much. Again, childish, but not a desire Shorty was willing to let go of easily.

He sat silently for some time, trying to decide what he could say to Dr. Jones in the morning. But sleep was not going to allow him many more waking hours, and eventually he let it claim him. He was sleeping in his good school clothes, but he didn't care.


	3. Up the River

Saturday morning. Shorty opened his brown eyes slowly, his vision blurred with sleep. At least there would be no classes today. No work either. He smiled, momentarily forgetting about his worries. There was plenty of time to sort out his argument with Indy. For now all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Shorty," Indy's voice called from the hall. "I'm going climbing, you want to come along?" Shorty groaned and pulled himself out from under the warm covers. "Coming." He said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Gimme a minute."

In response, Dr. Jones' footsteps made their way down the carpeted stairway. Shorty changed quickly from his school clothes, tossing them onto the chair at his desk. He'd put them away later. Wearing an old pair of blue jeans and a 'University of Chicago' T-shirt, he exited his room.

"I've got all the stuff." Indy said, nodding towards the arrangement of various equipment sprawled across the kitchen table. There was also a stack of well done pancakes. Shorty retrieved a plate from the cupboard and placed one of the pancakes on it. He buttered it quietly, wondering why Indy wanted to go climbing. They'd just been fighting, it seemed strange to want to do something so... normal, relaxing, right after an argument.

"Where are we climbing?" He said at length. Indy turned from the cup of coffee he'd been pouring himself. "I thought we'd try that little works by the river."

"But it's sheer rock... I swam across to it once, remember. There aren't any handholds..." Shorty eyed their 'equipment' doubtfully. It consisted of Indy's bullwhip and some small 'rock-picks' as Shorty called them. They were basically just metal spikes with a leather strap to attach to the hand, so that it could be thrust into a rock wall, making a temporary hold. "I don't think we can climb that."

"Well, I'm willing to give it a shot." Indy stubbornly replied, downing his black coffee in two quick gulps. He lifted his bullwhip and nodded to Shorty, who took the rock-picks and followed. The two seated themselves in the car and took off. Shorty didn't often sit in the back anymore, but he thought that today he'd rather. It might discourage conversation. No such luck.

"Shorty, I know you were angry when Willie and I broke up before." The teenager slouched in his seat, watching the trees whip past his window. "But we got over that, and I think it's time you did too." Indy looked in the front mirror, his eyes watching Shorty's face, waiting for a response.

"I know." Was all he could manage. There was no way he was going to risk making Indy angry again. Not when he was _driving_. It'd been almost eight years since the last time Indy'd used the age old parent's trick, "Dont-make-me-stop-this-car-and-_make_-you-behave". But he wouldn't put it past his foster father.

"Trust me. We both know very well what we're getting into. We're not just 'trying it out', we're going to stick together." It almost sounded as if Dr. Jones was trying to convince himself as much as Shorty.

Shorty sighed in relief. Thank God it wasn't far to the river or he'd of had to continue their discussion. Maybe he could change the subject now. "Are we going to climb single file, or side by side?"

Indy looked annoyed for a moment, probably sensing Shorty's dodging away from the issue. But he recovered quickly, tucking his bullwhip into it's clip on his belt. "I'd like to see just how steep it is before I decide anything."

The two walked to the river's bank. They had to break their way through a decent sized patch of bracken to reach it. Rocks of various sizes lined the edge of the water, and farther in, giant boulders loomed up out of the dark ripples. On the far side of the river, a tall cliff rose up to meet the morning's clear blue sky. It did look steep. They'd better climb side by side. That way, if one of them fell, the other might not. If they climbed one ahead of the other, if the top man fell, he might knock the other one into the water with him. It was fortunate that there was deep water at the foot of the cliff, it would make the prospect of falling a little easier to bear.

"Side by side." Indy declared, wading into the water, Shorty behind him. It was easier to swim across then to try and skirt around through the undergrowth. The difficult part would be getting out of the water and onto the cliff's face. That's what the rock-picks were for. They didn't go for the harnesses, pitons and other ridiculously cautious things most mountain-climbers used. Both preferred to climb the challenging way. In other words, the stupid way.

As they got farther into the water, Shorty grinned and started swimming, taking long strokes. At first, he shot far ahead of the older Jones, but Indy caught up quickly. They were both good swimmers. But Shorty was younger and was still in Phys. Ed. The Chinese youth reached the cliff first, but not by much. The water was pretty cold for how late it was in the school year. The sooner they got out, the better. To his surprise, he could see plenty of handholds as he looked up at the cliff. "These weren't here last summer..."

"What's that?" Indy asked, treading water beside him.

"I could have sworn it was different last year."

"Hey, rock changes. The water probably wore it down a little in the past year." Indy shrugged. He knew a lot about this sort of thing, but he was tired, and he'd have to do an official 'test' if he wanted to be very accurate about his guess.

"I suppose." Shorty didn't bother to strap on his rock-picks just yet. He left them inside his pockets, using his bare hands to climb. It was easy at first, but after a while he had to stop.

"No more holds." Indy agreed with the expression on Shorty's face. There was a ledge about five feet above Indy's head. "Let's try and get to that ledge before using the picks." The younger man suggested. Dr. Jones nodded, inching up about a centimeter and eyeing the cliff's face for ridges or indentations that could serve as a hold.

Shorty felt the late spring's afternoon sun beating down on his back, drying his clothes quickly. Suddenly he was distracted from his attempt to reach a handhold by a scraping sound on the rock to his right. Indy had found a faulty hold, which had apparently broken. He was hanging on by one hand, his left foot braced precariously on the wall.

"Keep going." Indy said, eyeing his bullwhip and then the branch of a gnarly little tree growing on the ledge's small surface.

Shorty stretched out his long arm once again for the hold, grasping it with the tips of his straining fingers. He pulled cautiously, pushing with his legs. After about three minutes, he made it onto the ledge. It felt like it'd been at least five hours, but only forty minutes had passed in reality. The Chinese boy jumped as he heard a loud cracking sound and looked up to see the end of Indy's whip curled around the trunk of the nearby tree. Shorty grinned and leaned over the edge, watching as his partner let go of the rock wall and hoisted himself up.

"Rest here?" He asked hopefully, coiling his bullwhip up once again.

"Not getting _tired_, are we?" Shorty jibed playfully. Indy was only forty-five years old, but it was still a little old for all the adventure his still twenty-five year old mental frame demanded.

"Nope, just don't see any sense in going too fast and ending up falling." Shorty grinned, obviously in an unbelieving manner. Indy made as if to shove him off the ledge and the boy's face changed to one of mock horror. "Crazy kid." Indy said fondly, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Dr. Jones..." Shorty swirled a finger in the fine dust on the ledge's rock surface. "I know that I can't stop you from making choices." Indy looked out at the water below them, not daring to speak. "And I know it doesn't really matter if you get married anyway. Not to me, that is. Because now that I'm of age, it's not like she'd be my mother or anything."

"Exactly." The archaeologist wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He was still extremely annoyed with Shorty's behavior from the night before, but he didn't want to start another argument. Not now, not here.

"I just can't help being doubtful. And I guess I'm mad because..." Shorty paused, searching for just the right words. He had never, _ever_ told Indy this, and it felt strange to finally let it out. "It broke me apart. When you and Willie separated before." Indy grimaced, guilt showing on his rugged features. "I was so hopeful when I was little.. I guess it was silly of me really, to think you'd even consider what was best for me." Shorty stood, strapping on his rock-picks.

"Shorty." The older Jones rose too, slowly. "I have always cared about what's best for you."

"Obviously not, or maybe I wouldn't have had to grow up in a one parent home." Shorty jammed his right rock-pick into the rock's wall. It didn't go in far enough to get a good hold. He struck it again and again, making the hole a little deeper each time.

"Maybe it wasn't top priority then," Indy said, watching Shorty's progress, "but I promise, I've been trying harder since... since I realized how upset you were about it."

Shorty paused and turned to face his foster father. "I just don't want to break anymore. I don't think I could repair the damage." His voice was much quieter and full of emotion than he'd meant to allow. Indy was very worried now. He hadn't realized how serious this was. Shorty almost sounded... fearful. Was he really that afraid to lose the only figure in his life anything like a mother. Maybe forever, this time.

Indy placed a hand tentatively on Shorty's shoulder. The boy shied momentarily, but did not pull away. "I promise, this time it's going to work out." For a moment there was no response. But then Shorty grabbed Indy in one of the tightest hugs he'd ever received. "I know." He whispered. He quickly released Indy however, seeming to be somewhat embarrassed by his act. It had be a _long_ time since Shorty had embraced his foster father. He had stopped doing it all together, soon after the India incident.

Dr. Jones sensed easily his son's discomfort, and began once again to climb the rock's steep face. "I'd like to have Willie over some time soon. But let me know what time is good for you, all right?"

Shorty grinned, reciting a well-used quote from his childhood years. "Okie dokie, Docta Jones."


	4. Even as a Father

"You're going to church

"You're going to church?" Indy eyed his son, unconvinced. Shorty blushed slightly but remained stubborn as ever. "Just for the morning service."

Dr. Jones said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "All right, just don't stay too long. Those guys are a bad lot."

The Chinese teen looked up at the ceiling momentarily and then turned from his father's study door. "Will do."

It was only three blocks to the church, so Shorty walked. He refused to dress up like the other boys who went to church. Most of them wore suits and ties. Shorty wore a clean white collared shirt and black trousers. Basically the same sort of thing he wore to classes every day.

Shorty didn't know exactly why he wanted to go to church this morning. Probably just wanted to get his mind off recent matters. He wasn't exactly the 'church type', as Indy put it, but he liked to go now and then. Sometimes there were useful things to learn, and other times it was just a bunch of 'lame stuff about going to Hell'.

"Oh, hi Shorty!" a smooth feminine voice called from across the parking lot as he made his way to the church's double doors. Sabrina Snow quickly caught up to her friend, walking beside him. "It's been a while since I saw _you_ here." She smiled that smile that sent shivers up Shorty's spine.

"Been a while since I needed any preaching at." He replied, smiling wryly. The two entered the building together and Sabrina turned to face him momentarily. "My dad won't want me to sit with you." She said, regret shining in her green eyes. From the second pew down, Shorty could just make out Sabrina's parents eyeing them like hawks.

He nodded curtly. "See you in class then." Sabrina hurried off to join her parents, her slim form disappearing in the throng of people searching for seats. Shorty didn't have this problem, as he always knew exactly where he wanted to sit. The very back pew, on the side farthest from the entry doors. The seat was taken this time, however.

"Mind if I sit here?" Shorty motioned to the seat next to the young man in _his_ spot.

The man looked up for a moment then exited into the isle. "Certainly." He allowed Shorty to file in then regained his spot. "Say, haven't I seen you before?" he asked politely.

"Maybe." Shorty eyed the man, trying to think where he'd have met him. "Oh yeah... you're the man who gave me a ride Friday night."

Adam smiled. "And you're that crazy Jones boy who needed a nightcap."

Shorty winced momentarily, but forced himself not to let on that it hadn't been a very good night. "Guess you could put it that way."

Before they could continue the conversation, the preacher stood from his chair behind the pulpit and turned on the microphone.

"Good morning." He began in the cliche way. The congregation echoed his greeting as usual. "First of all I'd like to welcome our many visitors." Murmurs of approval. Shorty felt suddenly exposed and he slouched slightly in his seat. "Let us open this wonderful morning's service with a word of prayer." Shorty watched as almost everyone in the auditorium closed their eyes and bowed their heads. It never made sense to him why they thought they had to close their eyes. He chanced a look over at his companion. Mr. Birch had his head bowed, hands folded and eyes... open. Shorty raised an eyebrow.

"In Jesus precious name, amen." The preacher looked out at his congregation once again.

"Can't stand keeping my eyes closed for that long." Adam confided in a whisper. Shorty allowed one corner of his mouth to curl into a very small smile.

The service continued in such fashion. Shorty found it difficult to pay attention. The service was a jumble of verses in Proverbs. Apparently the church had been working it's way through the book for some time now. There was too much for the teen to take in in one sitting, so he simply waited for the service to end. He eyed the clock hanging on the back wall. Five minutes over time. He rolled his eyes towards the church's cathedral ceiling. Next to him, Adam twiddled his thumbs impatiently.

"For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth." The preacher read solemnly. Shorty looked up from the fly he'd been watching. "Let us remember, dear brethren," he continued, "Just as a father must reprove his son, so God reproves us when we stumble."

Shorty realized just a moment too late that Adam seemed to be watching him, no doubt curious as to what had triggered this sudden interest. "Let us pray."

_Do we _have _to? We already did, dang it! _Shorty knew it was a disrespectful thought, but really. Ten minute long prayers, two in one service!? That's twenty minutes down the drain. Life's not that long.

"Amen." The preacher finished at last. Shorty darted out the church doors and started home at a jog. "Shorty, wait!" Sabrina called after him and he willed himself to stop. "Yeah?" He asked as the brunette came to meet him. "When can we meet at school?" She asked, apparently surprised that the words had actually been spoken aloud.

"How about after Psychology?" Shorty wanted to get home as quickly as possible. He needed to talk to Indy. Again.

"Sounds good." She gave him a winning smile and then hurried away before her parents could spot them together. Again.


	5. Don't Blow It

"What

"What?" Indy stood in the entry hall, looking as though he were prepared for anything, even a fist fight.

Shorty paused, staring at him for a moment.

"I saw you running to the door, through the window." Dr. Jones explained, closing the door behind Shorty, since his son had left it open.

"Oh. Sorry." Shorty stood awkwardly for a moment and then walked through the living room, calling over his shoulder. "Let me change. Then we need to talk."

Indy raised an eyebrow but allowed himself to settle back into his chair where he'd been half-heartedly reading the Sunday morning paper. He retrieved it from it's position on the floor and began reading once again. The local library was raising funds for an upgrade. Boring.

"Ok."

Indy folded the paper unceremoniously and eyed the boy in front of him. Shorty sat stiffly on the sofa and said, "I think... I want to see a psychiatrist."

"Come again?" the older man asked, though he knew what had been said.

"I want counseling or something."

Silence for a moment. Then Indy responded in a half-interested tone, reopening the newspaper. "I'm certainly not against it. Why do you think you need counseling?"

"Want, not need." Shorty corrected him. "Will you please put that down and look at me!?"

Distraction lost, Indy looked up at his son, trying not to show his discomfort. He needed to stay calm. If Shorty wanted to see a psychiatrist, it had to be bad. "So why do you _want_ counseling?"

"Well, to tell you quite honestly, I don't understand some of my... thoughts. Reactions. I'd like an expert's opinion on why my brain reacts the way it does." Shorty fumbled for words. "I'd like to know if there's some logical way I can control my 'anger management problem'."

"What made you decide this so suddenly?" Keep him talking, calm him down, and maybe he'd realize he could just talk to Indy. He didn't need a psych.

"The preacher.. he read this verse." Indy grimaced. _Here we go again. He really needs to spend more time doing homework and hanging out with friends. All this religious stuff can't be helping._

"Go on." Better to get it over with now, he reasoned.

"It was about how father's discipline their sons because they love them."

That hit home. Indy felt the little stabs of awkwardness crawling through him. "What does that have to do with counseling?"

"I thought that that verse made a lot of sense." Shorty leaned forward slightly. "I realized that I wasn't appreciating your discipline. I thought perhaps seeing a counselor would clear my mind, and help me to understand why you acted the way you did. And quite frankly," the Chinese teen interlaced his hands behind his head, stretching casually. "I think I might even find a way to not become so dependent on things staying as they are. Just in case they change for the worse." With that, he stood once again. "Thanks for talking, Dr. Jones. Do you have any recommendations on who I might be able to see?"

Indy blinked, then replied carefully. "The school counselor would be my first try."

"Excellent, thanks." Shorty turned to the stairway and proceeded to his room.

_Teens and their 'business' like discussions._

From the kitchen, Indy could hear the phone ringing. Crossly, he strode into the adjoining room and picked up the receiver. "Jones."

"Hello, Dr. Jones." It was a feminine voice. The woman sounded around his own age, possibly five years younger. The voice was extremely familiar, and Indy's brow furrowed, trying to remember it as it continued. "It's been a long time."

There was only one person such a beautiful and innocent voice could belong to. Marion.

"Marion.. what the h-"

"I'm calling from the pay phone on the corner of your block." Indy couldn't believe his ears. Marion... here? Calling him? As if he needed any more complications.

"Look, Marion, I can't talk. I.." He didn't want to have to explain about Shorty, but he couldn't talk to her for long without the teen listening in.

"Listen to me, Indiana Jones." That voice. It demanded his attention like no one else's. He waited, holding his breath.

"I've come a long way to see you. The least you can do is stop stammering and say hello."

Indy sat down shakily at the kitchen table, resting the hand holding the phone on cheekbone.

"Hello."

"Nice, Indy." The hint of a chuckle. It sounded dry, pained. "I needed to come. I finally accepted the fact that you would never come to me." Her voice shook slightly, but Indy could tell she was trying (and doing a rather good job) of keeping it steady and business like. What was it with people getting upset at him and then trying to sound like they were trying to sell him a vacuum cleaner?

"Marion - I.. I couldn't. You don't understand what I've been going through."

"What _you've_ been going through?" That dry laugh again. "What about me, Indy? What about _me_!? You can't possibly expect me to just forget about the one man I ever could of had a future with!"

"Marion, please." Indy's features, though Marion couldn't see him, were easy enough to imagine. His eyes had that guilty and desperate shine to them. "Wait for me. I'm coming to you _now_, I can't talk here any more. I've got... someone who can _not_ hear me talking to you." Silence for a moment. With a jolt of panic, Dr. Jones thought maybe Marion'd hung up. At last, she responded.

"You've only got one chance, Jones. Don't blow it."

Indy placed the receiver on it's pedestal, yanked on his leather jacket, shoved his hat onto his brown hair and exited the house without a word to Shorty. He would explain later.


	6. Leisure Time

Shorty crept downstairs as quietly as the creaking steps would allow. Indy had left. Without even saying anything to him. What was wrong? Shorty thought he had heard the phone ring. Yes, that must of been it, because he had heard his father talking to someone. What could have been so important that he didn't even tell his son he was leaving?

Shorty crossed the messy living room's carpeted floor. The coffee table was piled high with his college text books, archaeology guides and Indy's papers he had to grade this evening. They really needed to clean the place up, Shorty realized subconsciously as he entered the hallway. Indy's hat and jacket were missing from their pegs on the wall. He had really left in a hurry then, but he wasn't in trouble. His pistol was still in it's holster, hanging on it's hook behind a few jackets. (Dr. Jones didn't like to leave guns in plain sight, as it was tempting for thieves.)

"Dr. Jones?" Shorty called, already knowing there'd be no response. He checked on the kitchen table, but there was no note. He observed that the phone receiver had been replaced on it's pedestal hurriedly. So quickly that it hadn't actually hung up. Shorty carefully put it back on the hook and went back to the hall, stepping outside.

He sighed in relief. The car was still in the drive, so he hadn't gone far. Shorty was about to go look for him when he saw a red car slow down outside the drive. It was Willie's car.

_Brilliant, what am I going to tell her?_ Shorty walked reluctantly to her car and she opened up the driver's door, stepping daintily outside. "Hey Shorty!" she smiled that artificial smile. She didn't want to see him, she wanted his father. Duh. "Hello, Ms. Scott." Shorty said innocently. He knew Willie hated it when he was formal with her.

She didn't seem to notice, however. "Where's your dad?" She took a lipstick out of her purse and began applying it on her already covered lips.

"He's.." he had to think fast. No way was he telling her he didn't know where Indy was. She might insist on waiting here, and that was the last thing Shorty wanted. But there wasn't any good excuse. "He's gone for a walk." He said at last. It was lame, but it'd have to do.

"A walk?" Willie asked critically. "Since when does he have leisure time?" She smirked, reopening her car door. "Well, I'll drive around the block and see if I can hunt him down." She winked and backed out of the drive.

_Good. I hope I didn't just sick her on him. He better not be on the block._

There he was, walking down the sidewalk towards her as though he was meeting one of the neighborhood kids to play baseball. He never seemed willing to show any sort of emotion around her. Well, almost never. There was a time, long ago now, when she would never have thought such a thing. He had loved her then, she was sure of it. But not enough.

"Marion, I-"

Before Jones could give any of his no doubt already-thought-up excuses, Marion brought her slim well manicured hand up, bringing it neatly across his cheek.

To his credit, Indy winced but said nothing in complaint. "There's just one thing I want to say." He said cautiously.

"Make it good, then." Marion waited, placing her right hand on her hip, and running her left through her thick black hair.

"I'm sorry."

The middle-aged woman scanned his face carefully with her sapphire eyes, trying to find any deception in those wonderful eyes of his. There was none. Only regret.

"Should I believe you?" She asked, though she didn't expect an answer. She continued, "So, what are these problems you've been 'going through'?"

"Can we please-"

"No. Just talk. Don't whine."

"I wasn't whining, dang it, Marion!" Indy raised his hands in exasperation. "Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"You never let me-"

"Change the subject?" She challenged, her blue eyes glinting with somewhat annoyed humor.

"Ok. Fine. My 'problem' is that I'm already... involved with another woman."

"Why is that a problem?" Marion asked innocently. Apparently she wasn't willing to admit that she had only come because she was still in love with the bachelor. But why else would she have come?

"Well... it's not, necessarily. But I.. I'm starting to regret it already."

"Oh, I see you're still as fickle as ever, Dr. Jones."

"I'm not fic- ok, yes. I admit it. I am." No sense in trying to lie to Marion, what she'd said was obviously true. "But I'm working on it. I just need to make sure I'm making the right choice before I can settle on it."

"So, all you've been 'going through' is a relationship with someone else? That doesn't sound like much of a hardship." Her voice was cold and her eyes showed the anger she was trying to hide in the rest of her features.

"I've adopted a boy." Indy didn't want to give Marion time to speak. He plowed on, "He doesn't like Willie one bit. Er, that's my girlfriend. He's having a really hard time accepting her."

"Why is that any of my concern?"

"Well, you asked what my problems were, so I dang told you." Indy was thoroughly exasperated now. "Why are you here, anyway?" Behind him, he could hear a car on the road. It sounded like it was slowing down. Maybe someone needed directions.

"_Indiana Jones_!!" A high feminine voice shrieked. Indy stiffened and turned slowly to face the source of the angry yell.

"Willie, I can explain." He looked from Marion to Willie and then back again.

"Then do it. Now." Indy hadn't seen Willie so mad since the time they'd had that argument back at the temple. But that was a long time ago, Indy'd assumed she'd matured some since then. "She's an old friend of mine. She came all the way from Nepal."

"Why?" Willie's icy blue eyes surveyed Marion from head to toe twice.

"Look, you've obviously gotten the wrong impression." Indy felt unease creeping along like a million spiders. "Marion's just here to visit."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Ah, Ms. Scott!" Marion intervened, giving Indy an urgent glare. Best to let her handle it, the archaeologist decided. "Indy's told me all about you. I was so pleased to hear how happy you are together."

Willie blinked for a moment and then said looked at Indy, who nodded vigorously. Marion gave her a winning smile and the blond woman stepped gracefully from her car.

"Excuse my rudeness, I.." Obviously she was finding it difficult to think of an excuse.

"Of course," Marion said, once again the gracious savior of a conversation that could turn ugly. "I understand entirely."

Indy felt it was safe to step in at this time. "Marion was just going to book a hotel room."

"Yes, you'll have to excuse me." She stepped on Indy's foot quickly and he winced. Then she was walking away, turning around the corner and out of sight as soon as possible.

Willie looked at him awkwardly. "Did you actually think I'd be... with someone else? Willie, I thought-" He paused, searching her blue eyes. "I thought you trusted me more than that."

"Well.." Willie faltered for a moment and then took a step towards him. "You've been with so many others.. I just didn't know what to think, I guess."

"Maybe you should go home, Willie." Indy didn't need this right now. He needed to get home, cool down, take a shower and get some rest. He had some serious thinking to do. He opened Willie's car door for her and waved to her as she drove away. She was mad at him. He didn't really care. He was so confused. As he walked home in the evening's dwindling light, all he could think about was the fact that _he_ might be the one in need of a psychiatrist.


	7. Love Hurts

Shorty knocked on the office door softly

Shorty knocked on the office door softly. He'd thought it was a brilliant idea at the time, but now that he was actually coming to his appointment with the school counselor, he couldn't seem to get a hold of himself.

"Come on in." A man's voice called. The boy opened the door slowly, stepped inside and closed it.

"We meet again." Adam Birch smiled at him, obviously pleased to be counseling someone he already knew, instead of a complete stranger about to die from the jitters before his first date.

Shorty's eyes widened. "You're... I had no idea you worked here!" Shorty sat down, interlaced his fingers and leaned back. "Well, that makes it a lot easier."

Adam shrugged. "You never asked what I did for a living. I don't blame you, really..." He pulled out a notepad and pencil from a drawer in his cheap office desk. "It's a really boring question."

Shorty smiled a little at that.

"So, now I get to hear what you do for a 'living', eh? What've you been up to lately, David?"

"Well," the teen's nervousness returned. Where should he begin? "My dad's been dating this lady for a while now... her name's Willie."

Adam placed his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, placing his chin in his cupped hands. He certainly didn't act like a normal counselor. Not any Shorty remembered hearing about, at any rate.

"Go on?" he prompted, writing something down. No doubt Willie's name.

"Well, he wants to marry her. I have two problems with that. No, three really." Shorty couldn't believe he was actually presenting his problem in such a calm manner. This was definitely a good idea, if only so that he could let it out. "First problem:"

Adam made a quick mark on the tablet and looked up.

"I am afraid that.. it might not work out. That they'd get married and then separate. If that happened, they'd never come back together again, I just know it. Why bother, if they know marriage wouldn't work?"

"That's a pretty mature view." Adam commented.

"Next problem: I'm afraid Dr. Jones only wants to marry her because she's pretty. I mean, not _completely _for her looks, but you know." Shorty thought a moment, obviously trying to think of a good way to present his thoughts. "Like, he doesn't actually love her... Maybe he hasn't actually thought about it hard enough, I guess is what I'm trying to say."

"How long have they been together?" Adam asked, writing faster now.

"Well, when I was about nine was when they met. They separated about a month after. They just got back together a year ago."

"That's a long time to know each other. Twelve years. Wow."

Shorty calculated for about five seconds, then blushed as Adam gave him a smug wink. "If we're going by the age you told me you were when we _first _met."

"No, I'm eighteen." There, he'd admitted his lie.

"I know." Adam passed Shorty a card, which contained a collection of information on a 'David "Shorty" Jones',

"So, anyway." Adam began writing again. Shorty was confused. He hadn't said anything yet, what was Adam writing? The teen leaned forward as inconspicuously as possible. What he saw almost made him laugh out loud. His companion was drawing an elephant. It had ears that dragged on the ground, and gigantic bug-like eye balls.

Adam looked up, right into Shorty's eyes. The boy quickly regained his former position. "Anyway." Adam repeated, scribbling out his doodle. _What a waste, it was a good picture._ Shorty couldn't help thinking.

"Are you new to this job?" Shorty asked accusingly.

"Maybe." Adam was wearing a very stubborn poker face.

"Ok, where was I?"

"On to the third problem." Adam reminded him.

"Right. Third problem," Shorty quickly resumed his calm but bold mood, "I think that Dr. Jones is only marrying her because he's trying to force himself to stop thinking about a certain someone else."

Adam wrote something down and then looked at Shorty. "Yes? Do tell."

"You sound like an old lady from the gossip chain." Shorty rolled his eyes.

"Sorry. Go on?" Adam was obviously enjoying himself.

"He once told me, and only once, mind you, about a woman named Marion Ravenwood. When he spoke about her, he seemed so... distant, as if he were there with her, instead of sitting there with me." Shorty shrugged, trying to think what else to say. "I think he still loves her, from back when they were together, many years ago now."

"How long ago?"

"I'm not sure, sorry. But at least ten years, more, I think."

"Ok, so those are your concerns. Here is what I classify them under:

Problem one: Dependency threatened, since you don't want to lose her, correct?" Without waiting for a response, he continued, "Problem two: Concern for another's well-being, as well as your own, really, because you're worried about having a quiet household."

Shorty nodded. That's what he meant, exactly. Shorty had the 'concerns', and Adam had the words to express them.

"Problem three: Doubting another's choice. You're worried that your father is not making a good choice." Adam set down his pad. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"No, not really. The rest of my life is fine right now." Shorty smiled wryly. "But I'll keep you posted."

"All righty, then." Adam stood, sticking the notepad in his shirt pocket. "If that's all, you can go now. Come again, Wednesday at two, if that fits." He smiled, opening the door for Shorty. "Oh, and could you let your father know I'd like a word with him when he's handy?"

Shorty nodded. Dang. He'd just gotten rid of all that anxiety, but now it flooded right back, resting on his shoulders once again. What would Dr. Jones think of all this? Would Adam actually _tell_ his dad about 'problem three'? That was one that Shorty had never intended to voice allowed in the first place, let alone allow the archaeologist to find out about...


	8. Consider Before You Buy the Ring

Shorty knocked on the office door softly

Dr. Jones hastily packed away his teaching equipment. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could leave behind the overwhelming college feel. Girls giggling every time a guy within ten years of their own age walked past. Guys flexing their muscles, pretending not to pay any attention to the groups of girls surrounding them.

No. He needed to get home, put his feet up and grade papers like there was no tomorrow. Or rather, like there was, since tomorrow was the deadline.

"Dr. Jones?" Shorty had to jog to keep up as the teacher exited his classroom, locking the door behind him.

"Yeah?" Indy knew it couldn't possibly be anything about Willie. They were at _school_ for heaven's sake. Surely his son would save it for the ride home?

"Adam, er, Mr. Birch, would like to speak with you when you have a moment."

"Really." The older Jones didn't slow his pace. He was itching to get out of his suit and into something more comfortable, no doubt.

"I think he wanted to talk today." Shorty prompted.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Indy turned and began walking back the way he'd come. Adam's office wasn't too far down the hall from their classroom. "All right." He muttered without looking back. "Wait in the car."

Shorty grimaced. He'd been hoping he could walk home. That way he could avoid being forced into talking about what Adam had wanted to discuss with his father. At least, he wouldn't have to right away. Forcing himself to obey, Shorty wandered slowly down the hall towards the exit. As he went through the doorway, he almost bumped into a girl coming inside.

"Shorty!" It was Sabrina. She looked mad enough to scare a mother grizzly bear away from its cub.

The boy grimaced, but quickly forced the look off his face, replacing it with a pained smile. "Hello, Sabrina."

"You didn't meet me after psych."

"I'm sorry." He muttered, only half involved in the conversation. "I had to meet with Mr. Birch."

"The counselor?" The girl's green eyes flashed from anger to worry, almost too fast to observe. "What's wrong, Shorty?" She pulled him over to a bench near the exit doors.

"I'd rather not talk about it.. not now, I just did, after all." Shorty tried to explain without sounding down right rude, or like he didn't care about Sabrina. "I wish I could have met you then, and I truly am sorry to have let you down."

"It's all right, Shorty. What's not ok is that you're having trouble, and you're not telling me about it." She scowled in frustration. "I hate being left in the dark."

"Ok, I can't talk long, but let me give you a summary: My dad wants to marry Willie, and I don't think it's a good idea, for more reasons then I care to name right now." Shorty stood, swinging his book bag back over his right shoulder.

"Can I call you later?" Sabrina seemed desperate to spend some time with him, whatever it took.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'll pretend I need help with my homework, so my parents shouldn't get too upset."

"Fine, if you insist. But not tonight, please."

Sabrina nodded, obviously not convinced that Shorty was all right. "Do you want me to walk home with you until we get to my block?"

For a moment, Shorty considered. There was nothing he'd like more then a walk with Sabrina without their parent's prying eyes following their every move. But in his heart he knew he couldn't disobey a direct order from Dr. Jones. Many men had made that mistake, and things hadn't turned out very nicely for them. "I can't, Dr. Jones told me to wait in the car. He's driving me home."

"Oh," Sabrina nodded, walking towards the door. "Okie-dokes, seeya around then. I'll call you tomorrow, probably."

"Bye." Shorty followed her out the door, climbing inside the car. It was unbearably warm inside, the sweltering spring's sunlight had been beating down on it all day, after all. The teen watched his friend walk towards her house, staring at the sidewalk long after she'd disappeared.

* * *

"From what Birch's told me, you're more worried then you let on." Indy kept his eyes on the road, driving as carefully as possible. He'd pulled some pretty crazy stunts while inside a moving vehicle, but he still tried to avoid such maneuvers with a young adult in the back seat. No sense endangering lives that weren't willing to be endangered.

Shorty mumbled something that Indy couldn't quite understand and then added in a more clear tone, "What'd he tell you?"

"Not much, just gave some 'friendly' advice, that I personally think wasn't really his place to give."

Shorty raised an eyebrow, trying not to grin. Adam seemed to be very good at doing things it wasn't his place to do. "What'd he say?" He asked again.

"Just that I should 'consider my options before I buy the ring.'" Indy allowed one corner of his mouth to twitch, almost turning into a smile. Almost.

His son uttered a sound that could have been an 'oh.' Then there was silence, interrupted only by the sound of the car's engine.

"Shorty, I've got something to tell you." Indy didn't often offer 'confessions' to his son, but he was feeling guilty about leaving Shorty ignorant on the matter.

"Go on?" Shorty said, smiling inwardly at his use of Adam's phrase.

"Things.. just got a little more complicated last night."

"Yeah, you never did tell me where you'd been!" Shorty sat up a little straighter in his seat, his brown eyes glaring accusingly at Indy's reflection in the car's front mirror.

"I went to meet Marion."

At that moment, Indy was _very_ glad that _he_ was the one driving. Because Shorty seemed to be in such a state of shock that he probably would've driven them both straight into a ditch.

"Listen, she called me, ok? I didn't even know she was in the States." Indy was finding it increasingly harder to concentrate on his driving. "But I didn't want you to know I was talking to her on the phone, I was afraid you'd hear me. So I told her to wait where she was, and I'd come and talk to her there."

"What'd she want?" Shorty demanded, finding his voice at last.

"I don't know."

"You were gone too long to not even know what she was _doing_ here."

"I asked her, but she didn't have time to tell me." Indy paused, wishing now that he hadn't told Shorty anything at all about the incident. "We were interrupted by Willie."

Shorty dropped his head into his hands, allowing his black bangs to fall over his fingers in a messy tangle. How could things _possibly_ be this bad?

"You explained the situation to her, I assume?" The teen's question seemed more like a pleading request then a confirmation.

"I tried to, I don't think she bought it." Indy shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if we're meant to be together or not, the way she carries on about me seeing other women. There's nothing wrong with being aquatinted with a few, after all."

"Maybe that's what Mr. Birch meant, when he told you to 'consider'?"

Indy steered the car into their drive and opened his door. "Maybe."


	9. Too Tired for Sleep

It was well after midnight

It was well after midnight. Dr. Jones sat at the desk in his study, dozens of homework assignments scattered around him, only half of them graded, or even read. His arms where positioned behind his head in a relaxed pose. At first Shorty thought his father was asleep. But as he was turning to go back to bed, Dr. Jones spoke.

"You too, huh?" he opened his eyes from his meditating.

Shorty nodded, entering the small office. "Every time I'm about to fall asleep, my dang brain starts thinking again."

The archaeologist smiled, but the tiredness showed in his eyes. "I can't believe I'm even considering Marion right now."

"I think you always have." Shorty said, taking a chance with being so open for once.

"Yeah," Dr. Jones sighed, rubbing his forehead, "probably true. I just don't know. I was so sure before, and now one inexperienced counselor and a stubborn teenager have bowled me right over. I have no idea what I want anymore."

"That reminds me.." Shorty removed a stack of books from a dusty wooden chair in the corner of the office. "I thought counselors weren't supposed to tell what their patients said?"

"He didn't."

"But you-"

"Let's just say he was walking on the line, there. He told me that you were more concerned than he thought I realized. He also said that, in order to make you more comfortable with the idea, maybe I should think it over more seriously before I make a move towards marriage." Dr. Jones let out a large yawn.

"What does Marion look like?"

It was an unexpected question for the older man, that much was obvious by the silence that followed. At last, with some reluctance to talk about her, he said, "She had beautiful black hair and dancing brown eyes."

Shorty sat, listening patiently. He didn't know why he had asked about Ms. Ravenwood. But he was so curious, he really couldn't help himself.

"And let me tell you," Dr. Jones continued, producing a wry smile, "She was as stubborn as a teenaged mule. There was no arguing with Marion, that's for sure. You could try to convince her that your idea was better, but you could never all out argue. She'd win every time."

Shorty smiled, trying to picture this woman in his head. "Indy?" It was yet another unexpected gesture. Shorty _very_ rarely called his father 'Indy'.

"Yeah?" came the tired response a few moments later.

"Why'd you leave Marion?"

Silence reigned over the messy office once again. Seconds, and then finally minutes passed with no response. Shorty began to wonder if his father had fallen asleep. He stood quietly and began to exit the office.

"There's no good reason." Indy admitted at last.

Shorty reentered the office, but remained standing, leaning on the door frame. He waited for Dr. Jones to continue.

"I shouldn't have. That's really all there is to it." Indy shrugged, standing slowly from his office chair. "I'm going to grade the rest of these in the morning. I'll get up early."

Shorty didn't think this was a very safe idea, but he decided not to criticize. "I'll make sure you get up early enough."

"I bet you will." The older Jones muttered, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"What are you going to do about Willie?" Shorty couldn't resist one more question.

"I don't know." Said Indy, only half paying attention now. He was probably trying to get the matter off his mind so he could get some sleep. "Tell you what... Let's have her over tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Think you're ready?"

"Ready enough." Indy said, as though he were a rodeo rider, about to try his luck with a two ton bull.

* * *

Shorty pulled himself testily out of bed, his sight still blurred with sleep. He changed quickly into the same school clothes he'd worn the day before. He was too tired to bother searching for a new outfit to wear.

The teen crept into his father's room and stifled a laugh. He was the picture of exhaustion, but somehow, instead of feeling sorry for Dr. Jones, he found it a highly amusing scene.

Indy's form lay under the covers of his king size bed, his head buried under his pillow. His left arm hung limply over the side of the bed and his deep breathing, though muffled from under the pillow, could still be heard.

"Wakie, wakie, Dr. Jones." Shorty said pleasantly, yanking the pillow off his father's head. His victim opened one eye every so slightly. "I'm up." He lied.

"Whatever you say." Shorty grinned and exited the room, in search of breakfast.

As he was cooking himself an egg, cheese and ham omelet, the phone began to ring. "Go away." Shorty growled, picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, Shorty! I didn't expect you to answer." It was Sabrina.

_It's like she's stalking me or something._

"Oh, hey Sabrina." Shorty walked towards his pan of quickly overcooking eggs, but the cord wouldn't quite reach.

"I was wondering if you wanted to meet me outside my house so we could walk to school together?"

Shorty considered for a moment. If he ate quickly, they'd have plenty of time to reach the campus before classes began. "Sure, give me about ten minutes."

"Great, see you soon." A soft click sounded from Sabrina's end and Shorty hung up the receiver. He was just in time to save his eggs from becoming completely unappetizing.

"Hey, where's mine?" Indy asked, entering the kitchen sleepily. He was technically 'ready' for school, but personally, Shorty didn't think he was mentally up to it.

"There aren't enough holidays." The teacher muttered, preparing to cook himself a piece of toast.

Shorty shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Would you like me to teach your class today?" He asked innocently.

"Oh, shush."

"Dr. Jones, Sabrina wanted me to walk to school with her today."

"Ok," Indy glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, "you better get out of here if you want to be on time."

"I'm going." Shorty gulped one more mouthful of his omelet, grabbing his book bag on the way out. "Seeya!" He called over his shoulder.

When he reached his friend's house, he could see her waiting patiently for him, her hair blowing slightly in the breeze.

"Hi." Shorty took Sabrina's bag from her without another word. She smiled at him appreciatively and the two set off for the campus.

"So, can you explain to me what's going on, now? If you want to talk about it, of course. I won't bother you about it again if you'd rather not."

"Thanks. I think Dr. Jones is pretty confused right now. He was going to marry Willie, but now he's re-interested in a lady he used to be with years back." Shorty shrugged. "I don't know what'll happen, but I'm not nearly so fussed over it now."

"Well, that's good to hear, at least." Sabrina had to take two steps for each of Shorty's to match pace with him. Though he was shorter then most young men, he walked quickly.

"I know that whatever the numbskull decides to do, it'll work out." He said simply.


	10. All a Mistake

He'd done it

He'd done it. He'd made it through yet another grueling day at college. Shorty couldn't believe it was over already. And soon (three more days to be exact) it'd be all over for the summer. Now he was walking home, once again carrying Sabrina's bag.

"Shorty, I know my parents don't really like you." She began, kicking a pebble along as they walked.

"Observant, aren't we?" Shorty asked, his question laced with friendly sarcasm.

"And I know that there aren't many girls who'd go out with... with a Chinese boy." She seemed to realize that she'd started an awkward conversation. Shorty didn't mind, he was used to such discussions. "I suppose not." He supported, not really sure where she was going with this.

Sabrina watched as the pebble went sailing forward. "But I don't care. In fact, I like you _because_ you're different and you don't mind."

Shorty kicked her pebble into the road. There, he'd gotten rid of the distraction. Now maybe she'd look at him. She did.

"I don't care if I'm not supposed to, Shorty, I really like you." There. She'd managed to let it out. It was one of the lamest ways possible, but it was out in the open now. Shorty didn't react at first, just adjusted the weight of his book bag, which was beginning to slip off his shoulder. At last he replied.

"I'm glad, Sabrina. But how on earth do expect to keep your parents from suspecting anything?"

"We'll manage. And even if they do, I don't care." Her green eyes sparkled, glad to be speaking honestly about how she felt towards her friend.

"Yes, but I do." Shorty stopped walking for a moment, turning to face her. "If they outright tell me not to contact you, I can't. They could press charges."

Sabrina sighed, staring regretfully at the young man in front of her. He was too practical. "We'll just have to make sure they don't tell you, then." She said simply.

"How's _that _going to happen? He's already tried once, I just barely managed to excuse myself from the conversation in time."

"I don't know." She shrugged, placing one arm around him. "Stay out of sight when we're together, I suppose."

That didn't sound too hard. Shorty preferred it that way, anyhow, to be quite honest. He didn't like to think of them as some day becoming an 'item'. The fewer people to know, the better. It would be their secret. Just the two of them.

Shorty placed his right arm around her shoulders and they continued walking. It was somewhat awkward to walk this way, but neither of them really noticed. Two more blocks, and then they'd have to say goodbye. As formally as they could possibly make a show of doing.

* * *

When Shorty opened the door, he was welcomed by the voices of Dr. Jones and Willie Scott. Both were raised, and neither sounded at all thrilled to be in one another's presence.

"I told you already, I wanted to _talk_, not yell." Jones' voice traveled easily into the entry hall. They were in the livingroom.

"You're the one who started it!" Willie accused, her own voice still as loud as ever.

"Willie, sit. Please." Shorty sneaked towards the doorway, wondering how he'd get to his room. He'd have to go through the livingroom to get to the stairs. Unless.. No, he didn't dare risk it. He'd only gotten into his room through the window once. He'd had to climb a tree to reach it. Not in his good school clothes. He'd just have to wait in the hall until they stopped bickering.

"Why should I?" Willie asked coldly.

"Because I asked you to." Dr. Jones didn't sound at all like he wanted to talk. It sounded like what he really wanted to do was lock himself up in his study and curl up and die.

"I'd rather not, thank you."

"Fine, dang it. If you refuse to listen to me, what's the use in talking?"

"None whatsoever, Henry Jones, because you and I both know you're wrong."

Shorty winced. Things didn't look good. Or did they? The teen couldn't decide which he wanted. The Willie he knew and had grown accustomed to having around, applying unneeded makeup all day long, or the mysterious Marion he'd never met.

"You're right, I was definitely wrong about _something_." Indy growled.

"Oh no, it was I who made the mistake." Willie said, mocking a gracious tone, "when I chose to _date you!_" she hissed, and before Shorty could do anything about it, the blond woman stomped out into the hallway. She snatched her coat from it's hook, right by Shorty's shoulder. She looked him up and down for a minute and then said in a tone just high enough for the boy to understand her, "You wanted this all along, didn't you?" Shorty was about to respond when he realized she was already outside, the door slamming behind her. He heard a low sigh from the next room and the sound of someone going upstairs. Good, now he could change. He decided it was probably best if he left his foster father alone for the time being.


	11. Love Can't Compromise

"David, do you have a minute

"David, do you have a minute?" Dr. Jones inquired as the rest of his class filed out.

"No, do you?" Shorty asked, placing his books momentarily on his father's desk.

The teacher ignored the question. "I've got some errands to run this afternoon, do you want me to drive you home first or can you walk?"

"Should of known it didn't have anything to do with the class." Shorty picked up his books once again, heading for the door. "Yeah, I can walk. I've got to go to counseling anyway."

A few minutes later, after a quick drink at the water fountain, Shorty was sitting in front of Adam's desk once again.

"First of all, do we have any updates?" Adam asked casually. Shorty noticed him taking out his notepad and reviewing last session's results once again.

"I guess so. I'm not really sure what to make of it yet."

Adam's raise of an eyebrow was enough to make his younger companion continue. "He and Willie had a.. disagreement yesterday. She was pretty mad at him, I guess."

"Were you in the room with them?" Adam seemed a little surprised that Shorty would know if they'd been arguing.

"No, I had just come home from school. I stayed in the hallway 'till she left."

"They didn't realize you were there, then?"

"I don't think so. If Dr. Jones did, he certainly didn't let on." Shorty wondered why Adam was so interested in whether or not he'd actually been present during the row. He supposed his counselor was simply concerned about them being okay with having such a discussion in front of the teen.

"And.. that's it." He decided it was best not to tell Adam about Marion's being in town. That was something he was sure his father didn't want anyone to know right now. He hadn't even intended Shorty to know at first.

Adam eyed him, obviously aware that his patient wasn't telling him everything he might have liked to. "Okay," he said at last. "Now, according to my handy-dandy book that tells all about how to be a boring psychologist, I'm supposed to tell you how you can make yourself feel better about the situation." He winked. "But I personally detest being the boring type."

Shorty nodded. His friend's statement was obvious.

"I'm going to tell you some things that might take your mind off it, and hey, who knows, it _could_ make you feel better." Adam shrugged. "I personally don't believe that there's any way to 'make yourself feel better' about anything. But it's worth a try."

"What sort of distractions did you have in mind?" Shorty asked, his curiosity pricked.

"Ever thought about baseball?"

* * *

"Not bad for such short notice." Indy observed, eyeing the hotel room's thickly furnished interior. "Why are you here?"

Marion sighed. There was no good way to distract the man when he had a goal in mind. "I think you know why."

"Wish I did." He muttered, settling in one of the chairs by a table which was covered with coffee, cream, a sugar bowl and a vase of flowers.

"Indy, I came all the way across the world for you, don't play dumb with me now." Marion sat down in the chair opposite him, looking him straight in the eyes.

"For me?" Indy's eyes widened slightly. "So you're not just here to inform me about some loco job that someone back from your place wants to bribe me into accepting?"

"You wish."

"Marion, whatever you may accuse me of, you can't know how much I've thought about you since I left." It was hard, trying to express his feelings in a way that she wouldn't throw in his face again. How could he tell her he cared for her if he couldn't even stay with her for more than a few months?

"I never said I thought you didn't remember me." Marion pulled her black bangs behind her ears, her deep blue eyes sparkling. "But I have a difficult time trying to figure out how I'm supposed to make any progress with that Scott woman around."

"Progress? Towards what?" Indy asked spitefully. "You and I both know there's nothing that either one of us can do."

"Does Willie know you're here?"

"No.. it's not her business."

"You don't seem to realize how important it is to a woman to know that the one man she adores will always be hers." Marion was trying not to show it, but it was obvious what she was driving at. "If you love her, go to _her_ instead of coming to see me."

Indy winced. She was right, of course. But he didn't _want _to see Willie. They'd practically just broken up again.

"You can't toss us back and forth forever, Indiana Jones."

The archaeologist looked down at the carpeted floor. Marion was the only person he knew that could make him feel so guilty in under five minutes of talking. "No, I suppose not." He muttered humbly. Or at least, he hoped he sounded humble enough to escape Marion's wrath. If he didn't appear to repent _right now_, she'd probably not give him the chance later.

"Indy, listen to me." She reached across the table, her delicate hand lifting his eyes to meet her own. "I want to be with you."

Jones felt shivers jolting away through his body from his cheek where her ice-cold hand lay gently. She didn't remove it. "But love can't compromise."


	12. Have it Your Own Way

Dr. Jones had sent a letter to Willie through the mail. He was now on his way back inside.

Shorty hurriedly pulled away from the window, seating himself back at the breakfast table, pretending he'd not been interested at all. His father never told him what he'd written, and the teen never asked.

"So, you're going to give baseball a wing, huh?" Dr. Jones asked, seating himself across the table from his son.

"Yeah. Not going to give it a lot of time, just play around now and then." Shorty said dismissively. "I won't ever play a real game, just fooling around at the park."

The older Jones eyed his son critically for a moment. "You never know, you could be pretty good at baseball."

"I just don't want to dedicate the time and effort it'd take to get good at it. Simple as that." Shorty said, excusing himself from the meal.

Within a few minutes, both Joneses were in the car.

"You know," Dr. Jones said after a moment's silence. "I've already got a bat and ball somewhere, couple of gloves too, I think."

Shorty nodded. "That'd help, I don't want to bother getting new equipment."

"You going to plan on playing with some of the other boys from school?"

"Yeah, we'll probably have really casual games after schools some days." Shorty shrugged. "nothing big."

Dr. Jones smiled to himself, remembering the sorts of games he had played with his friends. He'd been younger than Shorty when he was really into sports, but not by a lot. His big interest had been cars. But the only thing his son seemed to know about them was how to fix them. He didn't give a care what model it was.

"Shorty, do you often walk home from school with Sabrina?"

Shorty blushed slightly. How'd Dr. Jones even known? "No, why?" It wasn't really true. After all though, it all depended on what you meant by 'often'.

"Just curious."

"Nosy."

Dr. Jones grinned as they pulled into the Marshall college parking lot. "Have it your own way."

* * *

"Jones." Indy said as he lifted the phone's receiver.

"Hi, is Shorty there?"

"Yeah, just a sec." Indy smirked, covered the receiver and called into the livingroom, where Shorty was studying. "Some girl wants to talk to you."

Shorty rolled his eyes. As if he didn't know who it was. What other girls called him?

"Hi, Sabrina." He said, giving Indy an annoyed look. His father retreated from the kitchen, feigning a hurt look.

Indy continued out the door, waiting on the steps. _She'll be here soon._ He told himself, trying to remain calm. _You can't blow it now, there's no going back._

Sure enough, after a few moments, Marion's slim frame marched up the sidewalk towards him. She approached him undaunted and sat down beside him. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," Indy was devastated to realize that all his carefully planned words had just disappeared from his brain. "I.. Willie.. She's not.. coming over anymore." That was pathetic. He was stammering like a student giving their first speech in front of a large class.

"Oh?" Marion asked, seemingly not interested. This was definitely not the case however. In reality, she was having trouble hiding her pleasure in the news.

"I took your advice. About seeing her, I mean."

"So you do have a spark of decency in you." Marion half-smiled, not willing to let her guard down completely.

"It didn't work out very well. She got- we _both_ got pretty riled up." Indy paused, wondering what to say. He couldn't just say 'so I'm open now, want to stick around?'.

Marion surveyed the archaeologist's features, taking in every last detail. She'd been so eager to see him again. She wasn't disappointed, he was still as charming as ever. She smiled inwardly, trying not to let it show on the outside.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked at last.

"Marion, you know why." Indy growled. "Why do you always have to play with me?"

"You're a good playmate."

"Dang it, Marion, I'm telling you because I.. I want you to stay here with me."

"Here?" the middle-aged woman looked mildly surprised. Her beautiful eyes showed for the first time, doubt.

"Yes, here." Indy replied stubbornly.

Marion stood, smoothed a few wrinkles in her blouse and said in as nonchalant a manner as she could manage, "If you insist." Before she could do anything to resist, Indy had pulled her off her feet and into his arms. She inhaled deeply, just before she was forced into the longest kiss she'd ever had the pleasure of receiving.

From the kitchen window, Shorty grinned. Thing were looking up after all.

_Congratulations, you've finished my incredibly long story! :D I hope you enjoyed it, and I do apologize for the cheesiness. Please feel free to review/criticize, as it'll help improve my writing for future stories. I really enjoyed giving you guys what I hope was a nice bit of entertainment._

_Over and out from the Insane Bunny Queen,_

Jessica Wolf


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